


Stark's Got 99 Problems and Phil Coulson's 8 Of Them

by LinguisticJubilee



Series: The Cephalopod Who Loved Me [4]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Comic Book Science, Episode IV: The Return of the Octopus, M/M, Octopus!Phil, Really I promise you no porn you always come to me looking for it but you always leave disappointed, THERE IS NO TENTACLE PORN
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-23
Updated: 2014-03-23
Packaged: 2018-01-16 16:23:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1353919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LinguisticJubilee/pseuds/LinguisticJubilee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which we take a quick break from Clint Barton’s succession of mental breakdowns to examine the mind of one Tony Stark as he struggles to comprehend the infinite possibilities of octopus-related jokes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stark's Got 99 Problems and Phil Coulson's 8 Of Them

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place immediately after the final chapter of [Octopus Shawarma.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/825764/chapters/1567772). You won't understand this story without reading the others. I can't guarantee you'll understand _after_ reading the others. This is really fucking weird. 
> 
> For reference, [ the Pacific Day Octopus](http://greenglobaltravel.com/wp-content/uploads/octopus.jpg).

About one minute after Barton has his full-on, balls-to-the-wall freakout, Romanov returns to their delicious meal of shawarma and condolence alone. It’s painfully obvious she’s alone, and Tony sits back and watches as the silence quickly switches from _companionable_ to _seriously fucking tense._

“Lady Natasha,” Thor asks, casting his big ole puppy dog eyes around, “where has your shield brother gone?” 

“To tie up loose ends,” she says mildly and frustratingly vaguely, sliding back into her chair. 

Cap leans forward, pushing his red basket of deliciousness away in his need to be unnervingly earnest. “Will he be okay?” He asks, his tone concerned. 

Romanov pauses, and her eyes pinch. She looks fucking wrecked. Well, if that look was on Pepper, Tony’d label is _mildly perturbed,_ but it’s the most Tony’s ever seen Romanov emote. Conclusion? She’s fucking wrecked. “We’ll find out soon,” she says finally, breathing evenly. And yeah, not even Tony’s tactless enough to question her on that one.

Dinner winds up after that, as no one’s quite feeling the “Go team!” vibe after one team member has a grief-driven mental breakdown. They pile into the Quinjet to head back to the Helicarrier, and here’s the thing: Tony is so looking forward to this. Because now, after the punching and the slaying and the flying through interdimensional wormholes, they have to figure out what to do about Mr. Garnier Fructis currently in SHIELD lockup. And Tony has the feeling it’s going to disintegrate into an epic bitch fight with the six of them on one side and Fury on the other. And as much as Tony normally appreciates _not_ having epic bitch fights? He really wants to see Cap yell at Fury. More importantly, he really wants to see Cap yell at Fury while _agreeing with Tony._

It may be a little weird, actually, how much he wants that. 

So anyway, they’re walking down a Helicarrier hallway, Tony almost skipping with glee, when Romanov’s pocket begins singing what’s most assuredly Beyonce’s hit single “Run the World.” She pauses, takes out a slim cell phone (it’s not one of Tony’s, so Tony doesn’t really care what it is, it’s inferior) and stares at the screen. And then, in the middle of the fucking hall, she smiles. It’s a tiny thing that gets tucked away along with the knock-off cell phone, but still. Natasha Romanov smiled. When she looks back up at them, her expression is once again stoically agent-like. “Gentlemen,” she says calmly, “if you’ll please follow me, I believe there's something that would interest you.” She turns neatly on her boot and stalks back up the hall.

Tony’s the first to follow her, because he learned long before these idiots that when Romanov says jump, she will push you off the goddamned ledge if your answer is not “how high, O Ruler of the Universe.” Tony expects her to lead them to some other conference room, but she blows right past the executive area and leads them down into the depths of the science labs. (So Tony may or may not have memorized the blueprints of the Helicarrier when he stole them from SHIELD’s servers three months ago. Really, with the amount of StarkTech in this thing, isn’t it almost Tony’s anyways?) They move farther and farther away from the hubs of activity, passing bits and pieces of wreckage that serve as fucked-up landmarks: _oh, hey, I threw that piece of rebar at an incoming mercenary! Good times._

They slow down, finally, in a terribly lit corridor deep in the lower levels. Romanov stops by a steel automatic door, punches in a keycode (TS52A64, in case you’re wondering), and slides smoothly in, the lights flickering on in front of her like even the bulbs are fucking terrified of disobeying her. Tony flicks a quick glance around the room (unassuming, tables with low-tech chemistry sets, nothing more special than your high school science lab) before spotting Barton. He’s sitting on a countertop in a tucked-away corner, knees pushed up to his chest, side pressed against a fishtank. A fishtank with an octopus inside. And Barton’s got his arm up to his elbow in the water, curled around one of the octopus’s tentacles. 

What.

Barton’s eyes are closed, but they snap open when they walk in. The octopus, curiously, also reacts, changing his skin from a deep brown with spots to a vibrant red and white. Hmm. Barton ignores them all and looks at Romanov. “Making this a group event, Nat?”

She shrugs. “I wanted to see Stark’s face when he found out.” 

And hey, that’s not fair, Tony should be offended, he _is_ offended, he is not anybody’s performing monkey. “Gonna introduce us to your friend there, Barton?” he says, reminding everyone that he is not the weird one here, not when Barton is snuggling an _octopus._

And Barton, goddammit, he smirks. “Introduce? I thought you already met Agent Coulson.” 

Tony’s mouth falls open.

“ _What?”_ Rogers snaps out, wide eyes glancing from Romanov to Barton. “Fury said he was dead. Dead and definitely not...that,” he says, pointing a hand towards Agent Octopus. But because he’s Captain Perfect, he drops his hand immediately. “I’m sorry. It is damn good to see you, sir, in whatever shape that may be.” 

Thor laughs loudly, clapping Rogers on the back. "Aye, that it is. Son of Coul, I should have known no simple wound could vanquish you!" 

Bruce just shakes his head and leans over a lab table, poking a finger at a test tube.

Meanwhile, Tony's mouth is still hanging open. 

The octopus is Coulson, the octopus is _Coulson_ , this explains so many things, oh wait, no, this explains nothing, what the hell? But what interests Tony more than the _Coulson is an octopus_ thing (he’ll get to that later, don’t worry) is the fact that Barton is currently staring at that octopus like it hung the fucking moon and then proceeded to cover it in a sub-gravity archery range. _Oh._ Tony closes his mouth. “Well, that’s kinky. Or adorable. Mostly kinky.” 

Steve wrinkles his brow charmingly. “Kinky?”

Tony's brain shorts out. That is not allowed to happen _three times_ in such a short period, he is Tony Stark and he is smooth and witty and - - 

"The word 'kinky' wasn't associated with a sexual context until 1959," Bruce says, still examining lab equipment. 

Okay, that's not even fair. "I'm keeping you forever," Tony says, poking a finger at Bruce and desperately trying to gather his crumbling self-image. Because he can live in a world where he rode a nuke through an interdimensional portal, but he's not sure he can survive Steve Rogers and Bruce Banner discussing the word "kinky." 

Bruce looks up at that, a corner of his mouth quirked up. “Fury --” 

“Has more important shit to deal with than your change of address,” Fury says, ridiculous black coat billowing behind him. “Like these two idiots.” He gestures towards Barton and OctoPhil. 

Barton gives a half-hearted wave. “Hey, Nick,” he says. Coulson waves a tentacle.

“Wait,” Tony says, starting to get ticked off. “He lies to you about the deadness of your snuggle buddy, and he just gets a _‘hey, Nick’_?” 

Barton shrugs, closing his eyes. “Didn’t lie to me.” 

“Well, he did to me,” Rogers says. He strides forward until he’s standing in front of Fury. “And I’m angry about it. ” 

Fury smirks. “What was I supposed to say, Cap? ‘Coulson’s been stabbed, but it’s okay, because he turned into an octopus?’” 

“Yes,” Rogers says, without hesitation. “That’s exactly what you say. ‘Injured’ is also acceptable. As is ‘wounded,’ ‘out of commission,’ or anything except _dead._ ” 

“I’ll take that under consideration, Captain,” Fury says, in a tone that means _I have no intention to alter my behavior in any way whatsoever_. He meets Cap’s stare, then deliberately breaks eye contact to look over at Phil-the-cephalopod in his tank. “You good, Phil?”

Coulson bobs up and down once.

Fury smirks. “Awesome. Hey, look, I brought you a present.” He sweeps his hand back towards the door like some magnanimous folktale king, and the door opens on cue. Two technicians wheel in what is the most beautifully ridiculous machine Tony’s ever seen. The contraption must be seven feet tall, a solid mass of avocado green and silver, like 1960s science fiction puked all over a really groovy refrigerator. The whole thing is covered with flash tubes and clunky buttons and analogue gauges. Along one side, it has a long glowing blue stripe Tony has come to associate with Tesseract-powered devices. On top, there’s a ray gun straight out of Flash Gordon, complete with rounded edges and a barrel that looks like a series of bubbles. It’s absolutely absurd, and Tony’s palms itch he wants to touch it so badly. By the time Tony tears his eyes away from the gaudy machine, Fury has disappeared. Tony's be more pissed, but he doesn't have the time to, because _pretty._

Tony grins and feels a piece of him slot into place, a piece he didn't even realize he'd lost in the battle. Crazy machines and a vague sense of danger? This is his area. He claps his hands and strides forward to touch one of the side panels. "You two," he points to the technicians. "Would you kindly tell us why Fury gave us a set piece from the hit musical _Hairspray_?” 

The newcomers pop their heads from their hiding place behind the machine. They're both babies, skinny white children who keep nervously picking at their lab coats. “Sorry!” One of them squeaks, her polished British accent scarcely able to contain her excitement. “We just need to calibrate a few more variables, and then we’ll be all set!” 

“It’s a directed-energy device,” the second one adds, his adorable little auburn curls shaking with every Bob of his head. “Meant to calculate and deliver the precise amount of radiation required to, well, de-octopus Agent Coulson. The change isn’t voluntary; nanotech in Coulson’s system responds to its emissions and switches from human cellular structures to octopus and back again."

Tony moves to another side of the machine. “Oh, you precious baby,” he coos, running his hands along a row of flash tunes. “Who invented you? Who had such bad taste?”

Bruce comes up to stand behind him, checking the row of dials above Tony’s head. “Was the aesthetic purposeful? Or is this equipment actually an antique?” 

The curly-haired baby rubs a hand on his neck. “We, er, well, we don’t know. We’ve studied it extensively, of course, but it’s not ours.”

“This is the original machine that activated the nanotech within Agent Coulson’s body,” the tiny happy one pipes up. “SHIELD recovered it after his first exposure and used it to restore his cellular integrity."

The baby-faced boy nods. “In subsequent incidents it was decided that this first machine would continue to be used, rather than risk such a delicate procedure with a duplicate.” 

Tony had been nodding along, inspecting a particularly interesting pair of buttons, but he starts up at that statement. ”Jesus _Christ,_ ” he says, turning towards the Barton and Octophil. “Just how many times has he been exposed to _raw Tesseract energy?_ ”

Everyone else turns at that statement, too, until they're all staring at the Odd Couple perched on the counter. Barton tightens his hand around Coulson' tentacle. "Too many times," he says quietly.  Coulson changes colors, from a muted brown to dark green and back again.

Which may have been enough for everyone else in the room, but Tony came out of the womb cynical, and all humanity has been doing since is proving him right. His eye catches Romanov's, and she stares back, eyebrow raised. Tony's known her for a while now, and even though _Tony's_ Jarvis' unmatched hacking skills cannot drudge up an ounce of information on her, a cynic always recognizes a cynic.  Neither of them are satisfied with that answer.

"Well," the curly haired babe says, drawing a close to the particular uncomfortable silence, "we're done with our prep, so we can begin the conversion process."

"We need Agent Coulson to sit here, " the bubbly proper one adds, pointing at a spot on the floor next to the machine." Perhaps Agent Barton would...?"

" Right," Barton nods, suddenly looking alert. "Here we go, Phil." He hops nimbly off the counter, putting his arms in the water. Phil crowds close to them, wrapping four tentacle around each arms.  Barton lifts, and Phil is out of the water and cuddled against Barron's chest.

  "He's very lucky," Rogers says softly, looking down at Octophil, "that Loki's attack didn't end up killing him." 

Barton snorts.  "Agent Coulson doesn't believe in luck.  Luck believes in Agent Coulson."  He readjusts Phil and walks toward the machine. "And if you guys think Coulson faced Loki without knowing exactly what he was getting into, you're not as smart as people keep saying." 

He deposits Agent Cephalopod gently on the ground where the baby techs indicate. One of them hands Barton a blanket. Tony takes the opportunity to shuffle away and plant himself next to Romanov. "So," he says out of the corner of his mouth, "exactly how many times has Coulson exhibited octopus-like symptoms?"

He sneaks a glance at her, and she's staring at Octophil with a grim intensity.  He shakes his head. This was stupid, of couse Romanov won't trust him, good Lord she's seen enough Stark Brand Emotional Implosion to know it's a terrible idea, really, what was he -- "Five." Her voice is pitched low. "If we don't count the original incident, five. But that's not the question you asked."

Bruce is surveying the techno babble of the two technicians, while Thor and Cap are quietly calming Barton. 

Tony breathes in deeply. "How many times as he been exposed to raw Tesseract energy?"

"Twice."

Phil twitches on the floor, probably uncomfortable being out of water. Tony graduated _summa cum laude_ from MIT at the age of seventeen, so he's fairly confident that five is a lot more than _twice._

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Alright," the lady scientist calls from behind the machine. "And three, two, one--"

Blue light flashes, and suddenly there is a very naked Coulson sprawled on the middle of the floor. Barton helpfully rushes him, but Coulson, well, Coulson ends up being covered in more archer than blanket. Thor and Cap cheer, but don't look disposed to interrupt the cuddlefest.  Bruce wanders away,  shooting a fond look over his shoulder. Tony will need to do something about that, but first:

"Do you know what that means?" He leans over to ask Romanov, who still doesn't lift her gaze from Coulson. 

"No. Clint doesn't either."

"Does Coulson?"

She breathes in deeply. "I don't know."

"Yo, Nat," Barton calls from the pile of limbs and blanket. "Get your ass over here.".

Romanov grins. It's the first true smile Tony's ever seen from her, not tiny like the one she hid earlier, but huge and purposeful. She wants to smile, and it's beautiful. "Fuck you, _kuznechik._ " She glides over to the pile, and let's herself be pulled in by Barton's hand around her ankle. 

Tony sighs and runs a hand over his face before remembering it's still gloved in metal. He is overcome with an aching need for a giant cup of coffee, his bots, and Pepper. Not in that order. Because first, first is definitely Pepper.

**Author's Note:**

> Personal notes! 
> 
> \+ The cephalopod ‘verse has now hit a 15k+ word count, which is an incredibly ridiculous amount and I could never have reached it without the support and squeals I’ve gotten from each and every one of you, so for that, I thank you deeply. The love these stories keep getting continues to blow me away.
> 
> \+ I try to be funny on tumblr. [Come say hi.](http://linguisticjubilee.tumblr.com)
> 
> \+ This story marks the departure from canon as established in the post- _Avengers_ movies and _Marvel’s Agents of Shield_. That’s right, guys, before this story, Phil the Sometimes Octopus was _canonfic._
> 
> \+ I’m not done with these idiots quite yet. It will be a long time coming, but there will be more! Promise. 
> 
> \+ Speaking of more, the octopus photo I linked to earlier was taken in Tahiti. I hear it’s a magical place.
> 
>  **Edit 5/26/14:** I have wanky meta [ HERE ](http://linguisticjubilee.tumblr.com/post/86941361609/but-what-does-it-mean-hi-im-bagfullofcats-on-ao3) that explains better what this is all supposed to mean.


End file.
